A Place Between Heaven and Hell
by cjoh225
Summary: Starts at the end of 8X23 & goes from there. Castiel & Dean each deal with the aftermath of the events in "Sacrifice". Cas tries to make it back to Dean & meets a new friend. Dean deals with the chaos of the fallen angels and the failed trials. Charlie shows up eventually. This is my first story. Nothing too graphic, but rated M just to be safe. Issues of depression and being human
1. Chapter 1

AN: This is my first time actually publishing a fic, so go easy on me. This is also my first Supernatural story, but I will try my very hardest to be character accurate. This will be light on the Destiel to start, because it is clearly there in cannon but I just don't know how they will play it if they do decide to. (Which they should, but again, who knows). It may develop more in later chapters. Also, there will be an original character in this story, but only to have someone for Cas to play off of while he is away from the boys and because this show needs more badass female characters. I promise, she does not end up with any of the boys. *wink*

*** I do not own any part of Supernatural or any song/other material mentioned in this story.

* * *

**A Place Between Heaven and Hell**

"Now I've gone crazy, couldn't you tell?  
I threw stones at the stars, but the whole sky fell"

- The Stable Song by Gregory Alan Isakov

He knew he shouldn't have said it the way he had. But he would have done or said anything to talk his brother down. Sam had confessed his inner most pain and Dean had responded the only why he knew how in the moment, to completely downplay his brother's fears. To tell him he had it all wrong. Sam _was _wrong, but Dean regretted the way he dismissed his brother's anguish.. But it was his only option in the moment. He had to get Sam to stop, to let it all go, or else he was going to die. And Dean would be damned if he was going to lose his little brother again.

As they exited the church, Dean could feel Sam begin to lose what little grip he had left. Sam's legs faulted underneath his growing weakness and they were both propelled against the side of the Impala. Dean could only think to call for the angel he knew couldn't help. Cas had already made it clear that Sam was taking on damage that even he couldn't heal. But Dean was desperate. And he was angry. Why had Cas not just waited for him? He could've helped…somehow. In light of the information that Naomi had offered, he thought that it had at least warranted a conversation, but the determined angel had taken off before that could happen. That had angered Dean, but he didn't have time to dwell on that. But now he realized, suddenly as the sky lit up, he was _only_ going to be able to dwell on it.

"No Cas", he said incredulously. How could this be happening? He watched in stunned horror as a particularly close angel hit the ground in the watery marsh a few yards away with a terrible, earth moving thud. Dean felt Sam quiver in response, but didn't look at him.

"What is happening?", was all Sam could muster the strength to say.

"The angels, they're falling", Dean responded as all hope of seeing his friend alive again left him. He knew that nothing was ever going to be the same again, but that was pretty par for the course for the Winchesters.

Dean took a deep breath and pulled his eyes away from the sky. All he would allow himself to think about now, in this moment, was his splintering little brother. He quickly jumped back into action, pulling Sam up to his feet and opening the passenger side door in one swift motion. Once he was satisfied that Sam was secure and at least breathing, he closed the door and looked back at the church. He knew he couldn't just leave Crowley sitting in there, demon or not. There was no way of knowing if the purification that Sam had managed to complete would last, but either way, Crowley was still an important piece in this game. Dean made his way back inside the church, unlocking Crowley from the chair, but not removing the shackles.

"What's happening out there?", Crowley said with wide eyes, knowing he was unlikely to get an answer.

"Shut up!", Dean pulled the demon up to his feet. He quickly led Crowley from the church, noticing that King of Hell was a little less elegant in his movements at the moment. They got to the driver's side of the car and Dean spun him around to face him, forcing Crowley's back against the vehicle. "You are going to keep your pie hole shut and your hands to yourself or I will throw your ass in the trunk". Crowley knew it was best not to respond.

Dean took one last look up at the sky before he climbed into the driver's seat. He allowed his mind to leave the mission at hand for only a moment to think of his friend that was either falling like the rest of the angels or, the more likely scenario, was dead. Regret was all that Dean found there. He shook his head to dislodge the thought and started the car. He threw the Impala into reverse and tore away from the church like he was outrunning a title wave.

* * *

Silence, silence was all that was in Castiel's head as he opened his eyes. He could feel something crunch against his out stretched hand as he began to move. He felt as if his body was suddenly soaking with cold water. He had never felt anything like it. He had never _felt _like this. He was so aware of everything; The dried forest debris beneath his body, the movement of the leaves in the trees above him, the smell of grass around him, the wind blowing across his face, and the silence pounding in his ears. He had never heard anything as loud as the silence reverberating in his head.

As he stood up and began to walk with no direction, it all came rushing back to him; The choice he had made, the betrayal he felt, the pain of his very essence being taken from him. Metatron had lied, and he had believed him. Then a wave of something else hit him with the quickly rushing wind; Guilt. He had done it again. He had intended on fixing his home, but he had only made it worse. And then as he walked, he began to hear something other than silence. He heard the consequences of his actions. And those consequences were falling to the earth with horrible beauty.

Castiel picked up his pace as he came to a clearing. He stood there in paralyzing shock at what he was seeing, but he forced himself to maintain composure. His family was falling. They had been forced out their home. Any resolve they had was being stripped from them because of the choices Castiel had made. He found himself completely unable to pull his gaze away from the sickening scene that was playing out above him. This was his fault, he told himself, and he should have to watch. He should have to experience every aching minute of it.

Castiel felt a hitch in his breath and bile rising in his throat. As if an unseen force was pushing down on his shoulders, he collapsed to his knees. His human body was failing in his desire to continue watching his punishment. It was fighting against the pain, pleading with him to stop. Suddenly he lurched forward and dry heaved against the ground. He was shaking and could feel warm tears washing over his cool, wind-blown face. If he were still an angel, he would have been able to stand there all night and serve the first part of his long penance. But he was human now. His mortal brain could only handle so much.

He began gripping the ground in anguish. He could feel the pain radiating from his fingers as he dug them into the dirt and twigs. The sensation of his nails splitting against the earth only served as a catalyst for the guttural scream that escaped his lungs. The screams turned to sobs as his tears became overwhelming. How could he let this happen? How could he have been so wrong again? So much pain and suffering had been inflicted on his home because of him. _He_ was what was wrong. _Honestly I think you came off the line with a crack in your chassis_, Naomi's words echoed in his head. She was right, she had been right about him all along.

He stayed in that position for a long time, even after the sounds of his brothers and sisters plummeting to earth had ended. Castiel could not bring himself to get to his feet. He deserved to stay there in pain and self loathing. Finally, he fell to his side with his eyes closed tight. Exhaustion was taking him over as a thought entered his mind. If he just stayed there, unmoved, maybe the problem would take care of itself. Maybe this body that was only his now would just stop functioning from the chill in the air and he would cease to be able to cause any more disorder and carnage. He would take his inevitable trip downstairs, and not to rescue a green-eyed hunter. He needed to be punished for his crimes, where better to do that than Hell? His final thoughts before he lost consciousness were of Dean and the agony that came with knowing that he had let him down…again.

* * *

Dean allowed himself a sigh of relief as he pulled the Impala up next to the Men of Letters bunker. They had made it in one piece, which was surprising with how fast he had been driving. He was determined to get his now unconscious brother to safety. As he turned off the car, the radio that had been spewing nothing but speculation on the unpredicted meteor shower went silent.

He decided to bring Crowley into the bunker first. He knew that he was going to need Kevin's help bringing in Sam, and it was better if he could assure the profit that the man that killed his mother was locked away. Dean could feel his phone buzzing in the pocket of his jeans as he pulled the demon from the back seat, but he chose to ignore it. They made their way to the door, Dean did the secret knock the hunters and the profit agreed on before, and hoped that Kevin would answer quickly. The door squeaked open and Kevin stepped back onto the landing.

"What the hell is _he_ doing here? What's going on?", Kevin said, his hatred palpable.

"I didn't have a better option. I'm going to lock him in the dungeon. Just go out to the car and sit with Sam." Dean could see the hesitation on the profit's face. "Please", he added, trying to get across how desperate he was.

"Fine. I just don't want to see _him_", he spat, motioning towards the demon as he walked past Dean. He cleared the stairs in one leap to get away as quick as he could.

After Dean left Crowley bound to the wall in the hidden dungeon, he made his way back to the car. He found Kevin kneeling next to the open-door passenger side of the Impala with a concerned look on his face.

"Dean, he doesn't look very good. Maybe we should take him to the hospital?", Kevin said as more of a question than a statement.

"What could the hospital do that we can't? Cas said not even he could heal Sam", Dean regretted saying it as soon as the words left his mouth. Not only because he didn't want to think about his missing friend right now, but because that spurred a wave of questions from Kevin. (Why not? Where is Cas? Why were the machines in the war room going crazy? Why do you have a murdering dick demon tied up in the basement?). "Just help me get him inside" Dean begged, not just for the help, but to get the profit to stop talking. His head was swimming with the same questions and he needed to focus on something he could take care of right now; getting his brother to survive the night.

Once inside and in Sam's room, they carefully laid the giant man on the bed. Dean went about removing his shoes, shirt, and jeans and getting him to drink some water. Sam was burning up, so Dean instructed Kevin to go get all the ice packs from the first aid kits in the bunker and the car. He covered Sam with just a sheet and stood back to look at his brother, finally letting the bleakness of his condition wash over him. _I can't lose Sam, especially not after losing…_Dean let that thought trail off, not yet wanting to slip into the sorrow and regret he knew was waiting for him.

"Dean", Sam said, hardly more than a whisper. He turned his head to look in his brother's direction. Dean pulled himself back from his thoughts and moved Sam's desk chair next to the bed so he could comfort his brother.

"Sammy, don't try to move. You need to rest. We need to get you to stop lookin' like something out of Outbreak." Kevin reentered the room, looking a little out of breath and with his hands full of cold packs. He and Dean spent the next fifteen minutes arranging them around Sam in the hopes that they would be enough for now. When they finished, Kevin clearly gestured to Dean to follow him out of the room for them to talk. Dean was not looking forward to what he had to say, nor what he would have to tell him.

They made their way to the library when Kevin stopped to face Dean. "What the hell happened?" It was a broad question, but Dean knew all the bullet points that Kevin wanted answers to.

"I stopped Sam from finishing the trials. He would've died if he'd finished. And I couldn't leave Crowley there. I just need to figure out what I'm going to do with him." He added the last part because he knew Kevin wasn't going to tolerate living under the same roof as the demon that killed his mother. And Dean didn't blame him.

Kevin seemed to accept Dean's statements for now. "What was going on outside? All of the machines in the war room started going off and the map lit up all crazy", he said as he gestured to the room that led to the outside world. "I was afraid to go outside, but I looked through the telescope. I couldn't really tell what was going on", he now gestured to the smaller room in the opposite direction.

Dean turned to look at the smaller room, staring at the telescope like it was the first time he realized it was there. He didn't take his eyes off of it as he answered the nonplused profit. "All the angels fell. Metatron locked them out. He decided to have a hissy fit and kick everyone out of the party." Dean tried his best to keep it light for both their sakes. The reality of the situation was a hell of a lot to wrap your brain around.

Kevin looked fairly unfazed. He nodded and began to look around the room as if the answer to their troubles could be found just laying on the library table. Then his gaze just fell off into the distance, not focusing on anything. Dean figured he was lost in thought, but then the profit signed heavily and turned back to look Dean right in the eye with a determined expression on his face, "I want him gone. It's him or me", Kevin said curtly. Dean knew exactly what he meant and didn't say anything. He just nodded. And with that Kevin walked away in the direction of the bedrooms. Dean decided that he would figure out what to do with Crowley in the morning.

He began to walk down the same hall Kevin had disappeared to and heard his door slam at the end. Dean went back into Sam's room to give him one last look to make sure he was resting peacefully. Once satisfied, he started towards his room, but stopped at the door, hand on the knob. He turned to look at the slightly ajar door across the hall; the room that they had put Cas in to heal after finding him in the middle of the road. That felt like a lifetime ago.

Dean walked in and turned on the light. It was exactly like all the other rooms in the bunker, but for some reason it felt emptier. Cas wasn't in it long enough to decorate like Dean and Sam had done to theirs, not that he had anything to add to it anyway. Dean stood in the doorway for a moment, his expression unchanged. Then he walked in and shut off the light. He made his way to the bed and collapsed onto it, the stress of the day's events washing over him. He looked up to the ceiling and said out loud to no one, "My mattress is better".

* * *

AN: I know that this first chapter is fairly mundane and may be similar to other stories out there, but I promise that will change in the next few chapters. This was just to establish where everyone is in the story and for me to flex my rusty writing muscles. Like I said, I've never published anything I've written before, so I hope this wasn't too painful to read. I've really enjoyed reading everyone else's thoughts on what they want to happen next for the Supernatural boys and I just wanted to add my voice. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thanks for reading, guys! It's so weird to think about other people actually reading something I made up. I just wanted to say a few things before you read this chapter. I am in no way a religious person, but I respect people that are and I really enjoy that part of Supernatural. That being said, I apologize if I get any of the religious aspects of this story wrong, in this chapter or any upcoming one. I will do my best to do research and I will try to make it sound as authentic as I can. I just don't want to offend anyone. Thanks again for reading this first story of mine!

*** I do not own any part of Supernatural or any song/other material mentioned in this story.

**A Place Between Heaven and Hell**

"The door slammed loud and rose up a cloud of dust on us  
Footsteps follow, down through the hollow sound, torn up.

And you will go to Mykonos  
With a vision of a gentle coast  
And a sun to maybe dissipate  
Shadows of the mess you made "

- Mykonos by Fleet Foxes

It was a brisk morning and the sun was hardly peeking through the trees along the jogging path as Micah cursed at her new running shoes. She didn't even know why she was out there. She had never been much of a jogger, and if she did ever get the motivation, she would just go for a run around her apartment building block. But for whatever reason, today was different. Today she had decided, with no knowledge as to why, to drive out to the nature park a few miles away to take advantage of the path that wound its way through the trees.

When she awoke that morning at her regular time, she was instantly in a sour mood. It was suppose to be the first day of her vacation and she had been planning on an amazing day of sleeping in, followed by doing absolutely nothing. But when her radio clicked on at 4am and the chatter that came from it was about nothing but a strange meteor shower that had taken place the night before, she reluctantly rolled out of bed. There would be no hope of getting back to sleep, so she set her mind on taking her aggression out on her new running shoes.

As Micah rounded a curve in the path, she felt like her feet were suddenly glued to the ground. Nothing had blocked her route, she hadn't stepped in anything, but she was just consumed with the desire to stop moving. Baffled with the strange sensation, she began to take in her surroundings. When her gaze came to rest on the right side of the path, she was unexpectedly filled with the urge to begin walking into the trees. There was no path there, and no reason she should be going into the woods alone in the half-dark, but it was as if something was calling her into those trees. Almost like something just out of eyeshot was leading her to a new destination.

As abruptly as her trance had begun, it was gone. She found herself standing at the edge of a clearing about 40 feet into the trees from the asphalt pathway. She removed her headphones from her ears and looked around. _What the hell am I doing out here?_, she thought. _Is this what going crazy feels like? This must be what going crazy feels like. There's no other earthly explanation. _She lamented in her head about her acute mental state as something caught her eye. A tan trench coat on the ground a small distance away. It was opulent against the green and brown surroundings. Like there was a hazy glow around the fabric laying on the ground, but only in Micah's vision. She approached the coat, which she could now tell had a man occupying it, with apprehension. He was laying on his side facing away from her.

"Sir?…Sir, are you all right?", she said, fearing both getting and not getting a response. She walked a little closer to the man. She was close enough now to notice that his side was raising and falling with labored breaths. "Sir?", she was a little glad she hadn't happened upon a dead body out in the middle of the woods. "Are you okay?" There was still no response. Then Micah saw the blood, glinting in the light of the rising sun. At the ends of the outstretched tan sleeves where two bloodied hands. She became swifter in her steps as walked around the feet of the unconscious man. His face was dirty and tear-streaked, but appeared uninjured. Micah knelt down in the grass and crunchy leaves that surrounded the stranger and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. As if she had doused him with cold water, the man's eyes shot open.

"Are you alright?", she asked with much concern. "I'm going to help you. Are you hurt anywhere else?", she added, looking down at his hands. He didn't respond in words, but shook his head and tried to sit up. She could tell that he was panicking and she searched her mind for something reassuring to say. "I'm not going to hurt you. Do you want some water?", she asked as she handed her water bottle to him. He took it with one of his bloody hands and drank in desperate silence. "What are you doing out here? Can you tell me what happened to you?", she didn't want to overwhelm him, but his anxiety level was becoming mutual.

She gave him time to answer after he finished drinking, but he just sat there breathing rapidly and glancing around the clearing as if he was expecting to see someone other than her. "Are you okay? Were you mugged? I read in the paper a couple weeks ago that's happened a few times out here", she realized she was talking very quickly out of nervousness. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "My name is Micah. I'm going to do my best to help you".

"Micah?", the man questioned with his head tilted to the side as he looked up at her for the first time. "Like the Jewish prophet", his voice sounded rough, like it had been a while since he had used it.

"Um, I guess." She was glad he had finally said something, even if it was about something innocuous.

"He was a good man", Castiel said while exhaling. Micah wasn't quite sure what to make of this statement, but chalked it up to him being a little foggy and ignored it.

"Are you able to walk? I have a first aid kit in my car. I can clean up your hands if you come with me", she said looking down at his injuries again with trepidation in her eyes. The man also gazed at his bloody hands. The look on his face was of confusion. Almost like he had forgotten he had sustained any damage.

"I am able to walk", his tone slightly robotic.

"Okay…Good." There was hesitation in her voice. "What's your name?" She was grateful that he seemed to be calming down.

"Uh…Jimmy. My name is Jimmy", Castiel lied. He had come to the conclusion long ago that his actual name was a strange one in this time, mostly due to Dean rarely using its full form. His initial reaction was to trust this woman that was so kindly offering him help, even when his mind shifted back to the betrayal he had just suffered. He frowned as he looked away from her and became aware that his body was trembling slightly.

"Okay, Jimmy. Let's get you back to my car.", Micah said as she stood up and began to assist the weak man from the cold ground. She saw now that he was wearing a suit and tie. The oddness of the situation was finally setting in for her. She had gone out for a jog and was now helping a ruffled business man she found in woods back to her car. So much for her day plan of doing absolutely nothing.

They reached Micah's car as the sun made its full presence known in the sky. She helped Castiel ease his stiff body onto a bench a small distance from the vehicle and then turned to retrieve the first aid kit from her trunk. As she walked back to the bench, she noticed that 'Jimmy' was slouching in his spot with a look of defeat on his face. "Hey, are you okay?", she asked as she took the seat next to him.

"My physical being is fine, other than this", he lifted his hands towards her. She took them in hers and began to inspect the wounds, ignoring the man's odd phrasing again. Anyone would sound a bit off if they had just been found unconscious in the middle of a park.

"I'm not really a doctor, but I _am_ sure some of your fingers are broken. And there's a lot of dirt in your other wounds. I'm going to try to clean it up as best I can", she expressed while inspecting each of the man's fingers.

"Thank you. I do not deserve your kindness", Castiel said in a mater-of-fact tone. He was surprised at how clear he could feel the pain in his hands. Micah was being very gentle, but he was experiencing this physical pain in a way he never had before. Castiel was used to feeling healable damage to his vessel as more of a dull ache. Still not enjoyable, but never as distinct as he could feel it now. This was tangible pain. This was human pain.

"It's no problem. I'm used to broken bones. I'm a radiology technician at the hospital in town here." Micah wasn't sure why she was revealing such personal information to a total stranger. But for whatever reason, she felt at peace around him. Even if she was busy literally cleaning blood off of his hands.

"And what town is that?" Castiel was conscious of his tone, understanding it was probably strange to not know what town, let alone what state, you were in. He hoped he hadn't ended up too far from where Dean and Sam were.

"Hartford…Connecticut", she clarified when noticing the forlorn expression form on the man's face. "Can you tell me what happened to you out there?", she asked while continuing to mend Castiel's hands.

"Something I only have myself to blame for occurring. I made a mistake, again. And I hurt a lot of people…again." He couldn't help but look down at his feet in shame. He wanted to continue explaining, but found himself unable as a lump swelled up in the back of his throat. He was finding this whole 'being human' thing rather frustrating.

"Everyone makes mistakes, Jimmy. I know that may sound stupid, but it's true. I get that you are upset about something, but what _actually _happened? Why were you out in the woods dressed like that? And how did _this _happen", she gestured her head towards Castiel's injuries.

"I did this. I deserved far worse. I still deserve worse." He could feel Micah shift in her spot, but she didn't look away from her task. "I was…distraught." Somehow that word didn't seem big enough. But Castiel was pretty sure there was no humanly way to express how he felt or to explain the magnitude of damage he had caused.

"You did this on purpose? You spent all night in the woods on purpose?" She turned to face the man, looking into his mournful blue eyes. A sickening realization washed over her. "You were trying to kill yourself."…It wasn't a question.

"That thought had occurred to me. But I seem to have failed at that as well", he admitted. He sat quietly while Micah just stared at him. Since he was not nearly as experienced sharing long gazes with her as he was with Dean, Castiel found it difficult to read her face.

"You shouldn't say that. Why would you think that? There isn't anything that you could have done that you can't be forgiven for." She had no way of knowing, but somehow she could just tell that this man was a good person. She couldn't fathom what he could have done that would make him think he deserved to die of exposure alone in the woods. "Maybe we should take you to the hospital to get checked out. You could have hypothermia and…", she was cut off before she could finish her thought.

"No hospitals. I'll be fine. I need to get to Kansas." Castiel was sure that Dean would be irate with him, but he knew he didn't have a better way of finding out what was going on with the angels after their fall. He just hoped that he would find both the brothers alive and well…and not too angry to at least talk to him.

"Kansas? Kansas but not the hospital. That's a little random", she said, a bit taken aback by the abrupt change in topic. "Is that where your home is?" She reached into the first aid kit to pull out a couple of finger splints and medical tape, glad the subject had been changed from attempted suicide.

"I don't have a home. Not anymore." Castiel looked down at his feet again. She could hear heartbreak in his voice.

"Then what's in Kansas? Because that's a long way to go, so it must be important", Micah commented while tenderly wrapping the medical tape around the splints that were holding the man's left pinky and ring finger in place.

"It is important, but I doubt I'll be welcomed." He couldn't keep the pain he felt from creeping up into his voice. He was using what little emotional strength he had left to keep the image of a disappointed Dean he knew was waiting for him from entering his mind.

"Some of the people you hurt, are they there?", she asked while putting the finishing touches on her work.

"The ones that are least likely to want me dead, yes. Though that's not saying much." Castiel could see a different type of concern appearing on the young woman's face. He didn't want to frighten her away. She was kind, and at this point, was the only friend Castiel had. "I betrayed their trust, more than once, because I thought I was doing the right thing. They have every right not be upset with me."

"It's amazing, the things we'll put our loved ones through when we think it's for the best." She gave his hands one last look over, squeezed them gently, and released them back to Castiel. She turned to face him, considering her words. "You're not the first righteous person to choose the wrong course of action." Castiel averted his gaze.

"Thank you, for all your help." He gingerly looked at his patched up fingers as he stood up from the bench. "I'm sorry I have nothing to give you in return. But I am eternally grateful." He gave her one last look in the eyes and made to turn away. If he had still been an angel, he would have simply flown away in that moment. Being a human, however, was going to require a walk. A very long walk.

"I'm hungry", she said to his back, loud enough for him to hear. He paused in his movements. "There is a great diner a couple blocks from here that I had been planning on having breakfast at after my run. Would you like to come with me?" She was still concerned about the grass-stained man and hoped that he would agree. She got the feeling that not only did he not have a home like he had said, but that he also didn't have any money for food.

"I cannot accept any more generosity from you. It's too much. I do not deserve it", he said over his shoulder. A pang of hunger growing in his newly mortal stomach.

"I figured you would say that." Micah paused, getting up and walking over to stand beside the man. "I'll tell you what. I'm going to go to that diner, and I'm going to order two meals. I only plan on eating one of them and I hate leftovers. So, if you don't come, a whole plate of delicious food is going to go to waste. Now _that_ is something that can't be forgiven." She flashed him a sympathetic smile and patted him on the shoulder before she walked over to her car and slipped into the driver's seat. She knew he had to be hungry, but she wasn't sure how easy it was going to be to get this lost, wounded puppy to eat. She was about to get back out of the car to try her luck again, when the passenger door slowly opened. The former angel eased into the seat and closed the door.

"I cannot thank you enough," he said earnestly, looking her in the eyes. He found himself feeling very lost in that moment. He just couldn't understand why he was receiving such compassion from a total stranger, when the opposite was surely waiting for him from the people knew.

"Do you want French toast or pancakes?" She asked, giving her new friend a large grin as she started the car and pulled away from the park.

* * *

Dean rolled over in his sleep, stirring slightly from the sounds coming from the kitchen down the hall. As he drifted back to consciousness, he figured that Kevin was up making breakfast. Dean thought that he should probably get up as well to check on Sam and get him some food if he wanted it. But the strong desire to stay in this warm bed that wasn't his was overpowering. He decided to be selfish for another ten minutes.

He stared up at the ceiling as the memories of the previous day came rushing to him. He replayed the horrible scene from the church in his head. The look on Sam's face when he brushed off the fact that he was going to die was swimming around in his mind. It made Dean feel sick to his stomach. He didn't understand how everything had escalated to that point for his brother. Dean knew that he wasn't one to talk about having self-worth, but Sam's total disregard for his own life in that manner was haunting.

Not wanting to think about his brother being in such emotional and physical pain anymore, Dean let his thoughts drift to the person whose bed he had slept in. But that was agonizing as well. If Cas had fallen with the rest of the angels, then he was still out there somewhere, cold and alone…and human? Dean wasn't really sure what condition the fall would have left the angels. Naomi had said something about them being kicked to the curb the same way Lucifer had been cast out. Did that mean they would still have their powers? And if they knew that Cas had been involved, would they be out gunning for him?

_I guess none of that matters if he's dead_, Dean thought. A whole new level of misery came over him. Thoughts of the way he had spoken to Cas the last few times he saw him made Dean's stomach churn again. If Metatron or Naomi had killed Cas, then he died thinking that Dean was alright with that. Cas had done a lot of terrible things and betrayed his trust in pretty major ways, but Dean didn't want him dead. He didn't even want him gone, locked up in Heaven. But if that's what Cas felt he needed to do to make up for all the damage he had caused, then Dean had to respect that. But that's not what had happened. The angels had fallen. _If he still had his powers, he would've made it back here by now_. The only conclusion left to come to was that he was gone, forever this time.

Dean cursed to himself and rolled over onto his side. He reached out his arms and buried his face in his lost friend's pillow. He wanted to continue to lay there, but he knew there were too many things he needed to take care of. Sam was first on that list. But he also needed to figure out what he was going to do with Crowley. Dean didn't want Kevin to leave. He was barely holding it together now. If another person he cared about left, he wasn't sure he would be able to handle it all. Then Dean's thoughts shifted to the few people still on this earth that he did care about; Charlie and Garth. He decided that he would call them once he checked on Sam. Maybe they had information on the angels from wherever they were. All Dean knew for sure was that he wanted them there, to know that they were safe.

He had to get up now. Reluctantly, Dean made his was down the hall to his brother's room. He was afraid of what he might see when he opened the door, but he knew he had to. "He's fine. I just checked on him a half hour ago." Dean turned to see Kevin standing in the doorway that led to the kitchen. He had a towel over his shoulder and a plate of eggs and potatoes in his hand. "I made him some food. You should get him to eat it," Kevin said, handing Dean the plate. He turned to make his way back to the kitchen. "There'll be some for you on the stove when you're ready."

"Thanks, Kevin." Dean felt a little taken aback. He wasn't sure what had changed between last night and this morning, but while agitated, Kevin seemed like he had accepted their current situation. Dean opened the door and suddenly understood why. Sam looked like death warmed over. He was as pale as the sheets on his bed and looked like he had been out in the rain, but it was from sweat. Dean slowly walked over to the chair he had left by the side of the bed. He was shocked to find steady breaths coming from his brother. He sat the plate of food on the desk a little louder than he had intended, causing Sam to open his sunken eyes.

"Dean?", Sam rasped, turning to look at him.

"Hey. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." Dean was trying to keep his emotions in check. "Kevin made you some breakfast. It actually looks pretty good. You should eat…if you can," Dean said, trying to look anywhere but his brother's face.

"I'm okay. I feel better than I look. Though that's probably not saying much." Sam could tell by his brother's face and averted gaze that he must look pretty terrible. "So what happened last night? The last thing I remember was the angels falling out of the sky." Sam tried to change the subject.

Dean managed to look at his bother now. He had his classic puppy dog look about his face. He couldn't help but notice how small Sam appeared. His little brother really lived up to his title in that moment. "The uh…the angels fell. What more is there to say?" Dean's voice broke. His stance was beginning to crumble. "Naomi was right. Metatron lied. Cas is….he's gone." He couldn't continue. The sight of his brother and the thought of saying these things out loud were too much.

Sam didn't know what to say. His head was pounding and he felt like his skin was on fire, but he could see in Dean's eyes that he was in as much pain. Sam sat up against the head board as best he could, trying to think of something comforting. "He's been _gone_ before. Maybe he'll…"

"No", Dean interrupted sternly. "There's no coming back this time." He didn't want to have this conversation. He didn't want to think about how he could let his friend get killed again. Dean picked up the plate of food and sat it on the bed next to Sam. "Eat. I need you to get your strength back." His voice was shaking. He put a hand over his mouth as he stood up and walked to the door. "I can't lose you too", he said without turning around. Sam sighed as he watched his brother leave.

In the kitchen, Kevin was busy cleaning up his mess from making breakfast. He could tell by the look on Dean's face that he was upset as soon as he entered the room. "Is Sam still okay?"

"Well he looks like hell, but he's coherent. I guess that's progress." Dean looked at the counter where the prophet had left him a plate of food. "I'm glad you're still here. I'm going to figure out what to do with…with Crowley. I just need to make some calls and I'll…"

"It's okay, Dean", Kevin said, not looking up from the sink where he was doing dishes. "I know you have a lot to deal with." He turned to face the hunter, drying off a frying pan. "I still want him gone, but I'll help you out as best I can. It's not like I have anywhere else to go", he said, an ironic grin peaking at the corner of his mouth.

"I appreciate that." He was truly grateful. "I'll figure something out." There was a look of desperation on his face that chilled Kevin slightly. Dean then felt something in the pocket of his jeans buzz. He remembered the cell phone notifications that he had ignored the night before. He pulled the phone from his pocket and saw that he had twelve missed calls. He made a gesture towards Kevin that told him he was going to take care of some business as he turned to go into the library. Dean got the feeling that today wasn't going to be any less stressful.

* * *

AN: Sorry it took me so long to finish this chapter. I had a couple days of writers block, but now I think I have the whole story arch figured out. I'm actually kind of excited about how this will play out. Let me know what you guys think! I really hope that I am being character accurate. That's very important to me.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Okay, so this chapter is pretty emotional and I need to make a few things clear. I don't understand sexual orientation. I know that other people feel differently, and that's fine, but I think people shouldn't be limited by labels or feel guilty about who they have feelings for. If you love and are attracted to someone, it shouldn't matter what type of reproductive organs either of you have. That being said, I know that's not the majority view point. So when I explore these type of issues in this story, I just want you all to be clear on how I feel about these things, not just how these characters feel. Because my views don't necessarily match up with what I believe are these characters' views. Sorry, I will step off my soap box now. I also want to say that the next chapter will have a lot more action. I felt that it was important to establish everyone's emotional states before I got into the bigger plot. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.

*** I do not own any part of Supernatural or any song/other material mentioned in this story.

* * *

**A Place Between Heaven and Hell**

"If I know only one thing, it's that everything that I see  
Of the world outside is so inconceivable often I barely can speak  
Yeah I'm tongue-tied and dizzy and I can't keep it to myself  
What good is it to sing helplessness blues, why should I wait for anyone else?"

- Helplessness Blues by Fleet Foxes

Castiel and Micah followed the waitress to their booth and took up their places on either side of the table. Micah watched carefully as 'Jimmy' opened his menu with his injured hands. She couldn't help but notice how lost and sad he appeared. "So what are you going to have? I'm thinking French toast."

Castiel looked up at her. His head was swimming a bit. There were so many choices and he was having a hard time focusing his thoughts. "I…I believe I like burgers." When Famine had infected his vessel with hunger, he had been vaguely aware of the flavor of the burgers he had been consuming at an alarming rate. While that experience had not ended in a pleasing manor, he had found the burgers themselves enjoyable.

"Oh, well, that's good," she found his phrasing odd again. "I've never had the burgers here, but I'm sure they're good. But it might be kind of hard to eat one with your hands all bandaged up." She made a gesture towards his injuries.

"Right. Humans heal so slowly," Castiel said with no irony.

"Yeah, it will probably be a few days before you're used to it. I would order something that doesn't require a lot of dexterity to eat." She could tell by his face that Castiel was waging a pretty big internal battle. She felt compelled to try to get him to open up, but was cut off by the waitress returning to take their orders.

Castiel had decided on oatmeal and an apple cinnamon muffin. A look of pride flashed over his face as he successfully completed his first human custom as a mortal. _If Dean were here, he would surely have made a smart ass comment about my accomplishment_, Castiel thought. But the image of the smiling hunter caused him to slip back into his depression. He slouched against the back of the booth and looked up at the stained ceiling tiles.

"So, I'm going to make a deal with you. I pay for this great breakfast we are about to have and you tell me what's going on in that clearly troubled head of yours," Micah said, not really knowing how else to start the conversation. She sat silently as Castiel kept his gaze on the ceiling.

"As much as I appreciate all that you've done for me," he brought down his eyes to meet hers, "I don't think you want to know my troubles." Castiel thought of all the times he heard Dean wish that Sam could have been kept away from all things supernatural longer than he had. Castiel couldn't help but feel the same way for his new friend. But he knew he owed her something. He let out a long sigh. "I caused a lot of damage…to everything I care about. And I don't know how or where to being to fix it. Or if it even can be fixed."

"What did you do?" Micah knew it really wasn't any of her business, but she felt like she was making progress with this lost man. She could see pain and guilt sweep over his eyes, more than what had already been there.

"I betrayed my friends and hurt my family with my choices. Like I said, I thought I was doing the right thing. I was so set in my mission, something that would help repair other mistakes I've made. But I was wrong. And once again, I chose someone I thought was being helpful over my own friends. But he wasn't. He was working his own angle, and I was just a pawn in his plan. And because of my short sight, I have once again caused nothing but devastation." Castiel felt slightly out of breath when he finished. Not because he had spoke for a long time, but from what he was saying. It hurt him to put his actions into words.

"'The axe is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire'," Micah quoted. She wasn't sure why she had said it and she suddenly felt awkward under Castiel's gaze. He was staring at her, mouth slightly agape. "Is that what you think you deserve? To be thrown into Hell?" She started to squirm in her seat. She leaned forward and continued, hardly above a whisper. "I know I don't know you…at all, but somehow I can just tell, you aren't a bad person." She knew she was becoming agitated by the fact that she was making a lot of hand gestures. But she had Castiel's full attention and she wasn't about to let that go. "I don't know how, but I can just…see you." She could feel her throat starting to burn. And in that moment, she knew she had to tell him what had been tugging at the back of her mind all morning.

"Do you want to know how my day started this morning?" Castiel just continued to stare at her. "I woke up because my alarm went off at it's normal time. Only, I know that last night I turned it off. I did that because today was suppose to be the first day of my vacation from work. So why was it still set for 4am? I don't know. Maybe I did forget to reset it. I can accept that." She continued to gesture with her right hand. She could only imagine how deranged she looked and would sound once she finished telling him her story. "But what I can't explain is how I ended up jogging in that park. I can't explain what caused me to stop in the middle of the path. And I especially can't justify what on earth would cause me to walk into those trees to find an unconscious man laying out in the middle of the woods."

"What are you trying to say?" Castiel finally broke his silence with total bewilderment. Micah looked at him with desperation.

"I know this is going to sound crazy. It sounds crazy even to me. But I don't know what else it could be. And if you knew what it was taking me to come to this conclusion, you would believe me." She couldn't stop the tears from welling up in her eyes. She paused before continuing in her frantic whispers, leaning forward farther and looking Castiel directly in the eye. "I think that God wanted me to find you."

Castiel was at a loss of what to say. His head was becoming foggy, but he couldn't help but think about what Daphne had told him when they had found each other.

"You believe me, don't you?" She looked at him with the most pleading expression he had ever seen. "You have to believe me." He couldn't imagine that it had been God that led Micah to him, but he did believed that she believed it.

"At this point, I doubt that God would care if I had never been found out there and just let myself die," he said in all honesty. God had brought him back in the past, but there was no way he was still involved enough to manipulate this random woman into discovering him and giving him aid. "All of that could be mere coincidence." Or a demon plot, but he wasn't going to bring that part up to her. He looked at her again and found her crestfallen. He thought for a moment that she was going to break down in tears, but she just stared at him. Thankfully, that was the moment that the waitress decided to return with their food.

"No," she whispered simply, not even looking at her meal. "It wasn't coincidence. It was fate." She racked her brain for a way to make him understand. "I stopped believing in God a long time ago. So for me to even think this, let alone say it out loud…"she trailed off, knowing that she still wasn't helping her cause.

"It's nice that you think I am worthy of such a generous gesture from a God you suddenly believe in again, but I assure you, it isn't true." He knew as soon as the words left his mouth that he had made a mistake. Castiel watched as tears began to roll down Micah's cheeks.

"Do you want to know why I stopped believing in God?" Micah's voice cracked slightly. Castiel could see she was suffering a lot of emotional turmoil and he didn't want to prolong it, but he could also tell that she needed to explain this to him. She needed to try to make him understand where she was coming from. He nodded slowly.

"If you wish to tell me," he said slowly. She had been so kind to him and his curiosity in humanity was at it's peak now that he was one of them.

"My family was very religious growing up. But not the good kind of religious. Not the 'volunteer at the food back, help the homeless, have a bake sale' type of religious. The kind that put the fear of God into you and then used that fear to manipulate you." She could tell that some of her sadness was turning to anger already at the thought of her old wounds, but she had to make him understand. "But even as a kid, I never thought of my God as being vengeful or something to be afraid of. I thought bad things happened in the world so that we would know to be grateful when good things happened to us. My parents…believed that bad things happened because God was punishing those that could not be forgiven. To let them know that they were sinners and were evil." She stopped for a moment to let the lump in her throat subside.

"So even though I grew up with them telling me all these things, I never believed them. Not truly. Until the day came that experienced first hand how hateful their God was." She almost didn't want to continue. She was just going to stop, accept that she was crazy, and let this man go on his way. But something inside Micah told her to continue. "When I came home for Christmas from my sophomore year of college, I had finally decided to tell my parents something I knew they weren't going to like. I knew they would be upset…that they would possibly never speak to me again, but I couldn't keep laying to them. So, I sat them both down…and I told them I was gay." She looked at Castiel closely to gauge his response, but he seemed fairly unchanged by the new information, so Micah felt comfortable enough to continue.

"I thought that was going to be the hardest thing I would ever experience, but I was wrong. At first, when I let it spill, I felt relieved. I had known for years that I liked other girls, but never quite understood why. That was not something we ever talked about in our house. So just saying it out loud to them was a huge weight off my chest. But then they responded…" She was having trouble speaking now. These painful memories were not something she revisited often. But when she looked up at Castiel and saw the sympathetic and encouraging expression on his face, she had the strength to carry on.

"My father didn't say a word, he just glared at me. But my mother…she…" Her voice broke as a new wave of tears ran down her warm face. "She said that I was evil and that God was going to punish me. She told me that my best option, my only hope, was to beg God for forgiveness and then kill myself…" Micah looked away from her new friend. She knew she had nothing to be ashamed of, but she still felt embarrassed. "She thought that if I was going to Hell anyway, I might as well speed up the process, so maybe God would grant me a little mercy."

They were both silent for a few minutes. Castiel could tell that Micah was crying, but he didn't really know how to respond. He discovered though, that he was feeling something that could only be described as anger. He was upset that this sweet, kindhearted person in front of him had gone through something so painful. But he knew then, in that moment, that he could trust her completely.

"That's when I stopped believing. I know that it's selfish now, to stop believing in God because of something that happened only to you. But I had never witnessed anything so horrible. A mother telling her only child that she was evil and should kill herself rather than admit what she was and be happy. How could I go on having faith in a God that would allow someone to become so corrupt and believe such horrible things in his name?" Silence fell again. Castiel knew that it was a rhetorical question, but he felt like he needed to give her something….some sort of humanly comfort. He reached his left hand across the table and placed it on top of her right, no longer gesturing hand. Upon contact, she looked up at him with tear streaked cheeks.

"I can assure you that God is completely indifferent to sexual orientation." He gave her a consoling smile. She flashed a quick grin back to him, and took a deep breath to calm herself and to collect her thoughts.

"So now do you understand, that when I tell you in this moment, that I believe that God wanted me to find you, what it takes for me to say that?" She gave him that pleading, desperate look again.

"Yes, I understand," he said as he removed his hand from hers. Castiel felt even more confused by everything, but not by his new friend. He would just have to trust that she knew what she was feeling was right. "So what does this mean? What does God want you to do now?" Micah's expression changed to gratitude and determination.

"I think I am suppose to take you to Kansas," she said this in such a matter-of-fact tone that it took a moment for it to sink in for Castiel.

"I can't ask you to do that. It's too dangerous." He hopped that she wouldn't ask why.

"It's my mission from God, Jimmy. Don't you think I know it's going to be dangerous?" She gave him a small, courageous smile.

* * *

Dean made his way to the library and leaned against one of the shelves. He looked at his phone to see that he had 7 missed calls from Garth and 5 from Charlie. Since Garth had won this particular game and was more likely to have info about the fallen angels, Dean decided to call him back first. The phone rang a couple times before Garth answered.

To Dean's disappointment, it turned out Garth didn't have much more info than he did. He had figured out that the light show the night before had been falling angels, but other than that he had squat. He did mention though, that he had a friend a few states over that was a bit of an 'enthusiast' about angels, so he was going to make his way over there to see if he knew anything.

"Why don't you just call him? You really want to make that long of a drive to visit this angel fanboy?", Dean asked.

"He's not really one to answer the phone. Not even sure why he has one. He's a bit _touched_…you know, _touched_ by an angel." Garth snorted at his own joke, but Dean just rolled his eyes.

"Well let me know once you find out something. Oh, I almost forgot. Keep an eye out for Abaddon. Sam scorched her, but that bitch is hard to kill. If she finds out that we still have Crowley, she may start gunning for people we know to lure us out." Dean hopped there wouldn't be a repeat of the 'kill everyone the Winchesters care about' show, so he thought it best to give Garth a heads up.

After they hung up, Dean hesitated to make his next call. Returning Charlie's calls was necessary, but he didn't want to have to answer the questions he knew she was going to have. The phone rang only once before she answered.

"Dean! What the hell is going on?! Are you okay? Is Sam okay? I know that wasn't a meteor shower last…", she raged, but was cut off.

"Charlie, relax! Take a breath before your head explodes." He waited until he heard her breathing, though now it just sounded like she was hyperventilating. "I'm fine. Sam is pretty bad off, but he will be fine. You're right, that wasn't a meteor shower."

"Well what was it?" She still sounded worked up. Dean explained everything they knew to her about the last trial, Naomi, Metatron, and the angels. He did, however, neglect to mention anything about Cas, which didn't go unnoticed by Charlie.

"It was Castiel, right? The one that was trying to close up Heaven? The one that Metatron used?" She could tell Dean was emotionally repressed, but not even being able to say his name? This was bad.

"Yes. He…" Dean paused as he ran his hand down his face. "I don't know where he is," he couldn't keep his voice from shaking.

"That doesn't mean that…that he's dead, Dean. He'll make his way back. He's done it before." Flashes of the Supernatural books went through her mind. _There is definitely more to this than he's telling me_, she thought. She was much calmer now that she could hear Dean getting more upset.

"I don't think so. Not this time. This time just feels different. I can't even explain why. Maybe…maybe I just know that he's…he's gone." Dean felt like an idiot as a tear fell down his cheek. But he also felt like Charlie was the one person he could be vulnerable with right now.

"Okay, that's it. I'll be there tomorrow night. Make up a room in that sexist bunker for me," she said with as much warmth you could give over the phone.

"You don't have to do that. It'll be fine," he wasn't even able to convince himself with that statement.

"Shush, I'm bringing pie." Dean had never been more grateful to have befriended this redheaded nerd.

* * *

After their conversation, Castiel and Micah finished their cold meals in near silence. Castiel couldn't help but feel a little disappointed over his first meal as a human, but he knew that he had sacrificed the experience for a good cause. Micah was still quiet as they climbed back into her car, but she gave him a small, sad smile. She had told him, after he agreed to allow her to bring him to Kansas, that they were going to stay the night at her apartment. Then they would get an early start in the morning. Her apartment was an older building in a nice, slightly crowded part town. Castiel felt like it would be a nice place to live if he were a normal, everyday person. Still in silence, they walked down the hall, but Micah paused as she placed her key in the door.

"Okay, I know we have this whole 'bonding' thing going on, but I have to ask you something," she said innocently as she turned to face her new friend. Castiel nodded. "As a woman, I can't in good conscience let you into my home without making sure…you aren't going to murder me or anything, right?" It seemed so silly, because for whatever reason she felt like she had known him for years. But the reality was that this was a stranger that she had just bandaged, fed, and agreed to drive across the country that she was allowing into her apartment.

"Seeing as you are the only friend I have at the moment, I have no intentions of murdering you," he reassured her with an amused smile. She really was a little strange, but Castiel was glad she was his friend.

"Alright, I guess that will have to be good enough." She returned his smile and opened the door. "So this is the kitchen. You are welcome to anything in there if you are still hungry, but I can't promise any of the expiration dates are within reason. The bathroom is down the hall, first door on the left. This building is pretty old, so the shower is one of those claw-foot tubs. It's not complicated to use. Just make sure you pull the curtain all the way around, otherwise water will get everywhere. There is shampoo and body wash on the shelf and towels under the sink. I am going to run down the street to the store to get you some new clothes, because I doubt that you want to take a road trip in a suit and tie." She gave him another smile and hopped that she hadn't overwhelmed him.

"I don't know how to thank you, for all of this," Castiel felt truly safe and warm for the first time since he had become human.

"Well it's not over yet, sweetie. You go get cleaned up and I will be right back." She gently nudged him in the direction of the bathroom.

Castiel waited for her to leave before he made his way down the hall. After he took care of his new human requirements and removed his rather dirty clothes, he turned on the water to the shower and climbed in. Remembering what Micah had said, he pulled the shower curtain all the way around the tub. He knew that she was generously opening her home to him and he didn't want to make any extra work for her. He couldn't help but notice how bright the white shower curtain made his surroundings. Normally that would be something pleasant, but instead it just reminded him of Naomi's office. He shook his head to try to dislodge the image from his mind.

After a few minutes, he had the water adjusted to a temperature that he could agree with and shampoo in his hair. He was a little shocked at how big the bottle was, since he had only ever observed Sam and Dean with mini bottles of shampoo that they seemed to collect from the motel rooms they stayed in so often. Maybe it was a female thing. He also found that Micah's soaps had more of a floral scent than anything the brothers ever used. Castiel decided that he liked these, but he found himself missing the plain scent of the motel room soap.

Bringing his hands up to rinse the shampoo out of his hair, he suddenly thought he heard someone talking. _Perhaps Micah was back from the store_, he thought. He called out her name, but no one answered. He went back about his business, until it happened again. _I really hope her apartment isn't haunted, I don't have any hunting tools._ It was an older building, so a ghost was a possibility.

Turning towards the water, he used some of the body wash to clean his face. It wasn't until he had his hands over his eyes that it happened. He had flashes of light and pain go through his mind. He quickly opened his eyes, but that wasn't as helpful as he'd hopped it would be. The white shower curtain surrounding the tub served only help the horrible memories that had began to play in his brain. Castiel could feel his chest starting to tighten and it became harder to breath. He went to adjust the water to something colder, but was suddenly caught up in the middle of a torture session in Naomi's office.

He closed his eyes, but it didn't help. Now he was replaying having his grace ripped out, with Metatron's voice dancing in his ears. He could feel his keens make a painful impact with the bottom of the tub. Any benefit from his labored breathing eluded him due to the feeling of having his throat slit open. No matter how much he gasped, he just couldn't get enough air.

He felt his hand knock over some of Micah's bottles as the memories he least wanted to relive forced their way into his mind. He could see himself grabbing the hunter's arm, and felt it snap under his angelic grip. He watched in horror as he plunged the long, silver blade into Dean's chest. His friend's face showed shock and pain and he coughed up blood as he fell over dead. And then he looked around. All he could see was the body of his dead friend repeated over and over. Castiel thought he was surely going to pass out soon. His vision was getting dark and fuzzy. He began sucking in air in deep rasps, practically laying on the floor of the tub. He just wanted it to stop.

Then, there was a knock on the door to the bathroom and it opened. "I found you a few things at the store. It's not a whole new wardrobe, but it will last you long enough for us to get to Kansas without having to do laundry. I am going to leave some for you to wear now next to the sink." She paused when she heard him make a few strained coughing sounds. "Everything okay in there? Did you suck some water down your windpipe?" He gasped a few more times, trying to steady himself. His normal vision was beginning to come back and he forced himself back up onto his feet.

"I'm fine," he coughed out. "I just choked on some water," he lied. He didn't want to scare her. She might decide that having a panic attack in the shower was enough criteria to be a possible murderer and kick him out.

"Okay, just be careful. I am going to try to wash your suit and coat. Also, I should put some fresh bandages on your hands, so just come out to the living room when you are done." He could hear her pick up his old clothes from the floor and close the door behind her. He was now able to let out the loud coughs he had been suppressing.

When his breathing returned to normal, he turned off the water and carefully climbed out of the shower. He sat on the closed toilet with his towel wrapped around his waist for another five minutes just to make sure the visions weren't going to come again. He stood up slowly and began to put on his new clothes. _What the hell just happened to me?_, he thought. _All of that because of a shower curtain?_ He sighed deeply and held his head in his hands as he thought about what had just happened. The horrible memories were pushed back to where they belonged, all accept for the image of Dean laying dead at his feet. Castiel looked up into the mirror and focused on the mission ahead of him. He just wanted to see the brothers again, even if they didn't want to see him. He hopped more than anything that his friends were safe. He hopped that Dean was safe.

* * *

AN - I know this one was a lot of emotional crap, and that's good sometimes, but I promise there is a lot more action in the next chapter. Sorry again that it took me so long to get this chapter finished. I just moved across the country, so typing this out got pushed to the back burner. Thanks for reading and let me know what you guys think!


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